


Wild Beasts Are Not Playthings

by TogetherAgain



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Attempted Lion Attack, Aziraphale and Crowley Through The Ages (Good Omens), Aziraphale to the Rescue (Good Omens), BAMF Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley's Name is Crawly | Crawley (Good Omens), Non-Graphic Violence, Random Ancient History Trivia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:21:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25681222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TogetherAgain/pseuds/TogetherAgain
Summary: Someone was looking for fics in which Aziraphale saves Crowley from a silly, non-angsty, "Bastille-esque" situation. It was NOT intended as a PROMPT... but this happened anyway.Look, lion cubs are adorable, but they have moms. Really dangerous moms. And lion moms don't like strange creatures playing with their cubs. And if you've been on Earth for 1,800 years already, you should really, REALLY know that.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 24
Kudos: 56





	Wild Beasts Are Not Playthings

Look, the thing is: it had _nothing_ to do with Crawley being incompetent. Crawley wasn’t incompetent. You don’t spend eighteen centuries on Earth without discorporating by being _incompetent_. 

It’s just that if you’re around for that long, you will inevitably, occasionally, do something really, really stupid. 

And in his defense, it _wasn’t_ his fault! _They_ started it! Crawley was just sprawling against a baobab tree, enjoying the shade and indulging in a little sloth on his way from one temptation to the next, and hoping that Punt would have decent wine, or at least some form of drinkable alcohol. He was completely minding his own business, and _not_ looking for trouble!

Maybe that was the problem.

At any rate, it was the lion cubs who approached _him_ , not the other way around. 

Three little cubs, just barely big enough to walk under their own power, had apparently decided to give themselves a little adventure and had wandered off from wherever their mother had left them. The ring leader spotted him first, with her little brown head poking out between the blades of the tall grass. She stared at him, and he stared back, and she regarded him with a curious little “ _Mrow_?”

Crawley didn’t answer, and didn’t move. Most snakes were not inclined to move very much when a prey-like critter was approaching, and this defenseless little cub was definitely in the realm of “prey-like critter.” Barely a snack, if Crawley was in his full-sized serpent form and actually cared to eat something that was still alive. (He wasn’t, and he didn’t. Ever.)

Animals usually got some sort of _snake_ -vibe from Crawley and stayed away, but this cub was too young to know what a _snake_ was, so she crept out of the grass to get a closer look at this strange motionless _thing_ at the bottom of the tree. Her brother followed close behind, while the third cub stayed back, just barely visible at the edge of the grass, watching to see how this would all play out before she actually risked anything. 

The leader-sister crept closer, sniffing at Crawley. Feeling like the fierce predator she expected to become, she batted a harmless paw at his ankle and stared at it, waiting for a reaction.

Crawley raised an eyebrow, but none of the cubs were looking at his face, so that didn’t count as a reaction. He kept _not reacting_ to them while the two curious cubs started climbing over his legs, investigating their new playground, and their more timid sister hesitantly poked her head out of the grass for a better look. Crawley continued to _not react_ right up until the ring leader tried to climb up his arm and dug her tiny claws into his sleeve.

“Oi!” he said, more startled than anything, and the cub dropped to the ground and scrambled back to stare at him in shock. Her brother was all but frozen on Crawley’s legs.

The shy one let out a little cry from her post in the grass. 

Crawley would deny ever enjoying playing with children. He would deny ever playing with children, period. And if he was going to deny playing with children, he was going to deny playing with _human_ children. But, at the end of the day… kids were kids. And it had been a while since he’d had any kids around to _deny_ playing with, and he would _never_ admit to missing it.

He walked two fingers along the dirt, nice and slow, so the little lead kitten could see the hand coming closer. Born predator that she fancied herself to be, she pounced, but Crawley yanked his hand away before she could land on it, and she gave his hand a baffled look as she watched it wander off to the side. She pounced again, and he moved his hand again, and her brother jumped down from Crawley’s legs to get in on the game. 

In no time, Crawley was kneeling and laughing as all three cubs took turns swatting and pouncing at his hands. He bent over low enough for them to try climbing on his back, too, and of _course_ they started swatting and biting at his hair. He snapped his fingers, and his hair was all tightly plaited against his scalp and wrapped up in artful loops, which the leader kitten was very keen to make a mess of, because isn’t that what hair is _for_ , when you’re a kid? Sure, he got a couple miniscule scratches and toothless bites, but nothing bad enough to call it _painful_. 

It was all great fun until Mother came home.1

Crawley did not hear whatever signal told the cubs to _move away_. He was laughing as he sat up to see them all darting off into the grass. “Hey!” He started to stand up, and _that_ was when he saw a very large, angry lioness, far too close, letting out a loud roar as she launched herself at him.

Now, Crawley is a demon. As such, his options in a situation like this are not nearly as limited as a human’s would be. The lioness was far enough away that it would take about two seconds for her to reach Crawley. In those two seconds, he could have done any number of things. He could have shrunk himself down enough that the lioness wouldn’t be able to find him. He could have made himself big enough to casually step on the lioness, or at least make her decide against attacking. He could have stopped time long enough for him to get a safe distance away while the lioness was frozen mid-pounce. With a snap of his fingers, he could have instantly transported himself to someplace safe, like Jericho, or Nineveh, or somewhere in Egypt, or literally just to the top of the tree he was standing under. But when you’ve been passing yourself off as human for 1,800 years or so, you may sometimes, occasionally, under high stress, forget that you are _not_ a human.

So Crawley used his two seconds to let out a very undignified shriek, turn, and run straight into the tree. He spun around to face an open jaw of very sharp teeth coming straight at him.

A wooden staff slammed down on the lioness’s nose, and she hit the ground next to Crawley instead of mauling him. Being a cat, she landed on her feet and whipped around to attack her attacker, but another strike from that shockingly sturdy staff sent her flying back about two meters.2 She recovered and turned to snarl, but she thought twice before attacking again.

And that was probably very wise, because attacking an Angel of the Lord didn’t usually end well for anybody. According to a _lot_ of demons in Hell, that was especially true if the angel happened to be Principality Aziraphale, Guardian of the Eastern Gate of Eden, also known as Crawley’s Adversary. _Also_ known, though only to Crawley, as Crawley’s (plausibly deniable) protector, protectee, and occasional drinking partner. And Crawley was never ever _ever_ going to admit, even to himself, anything _else_ he felt about this particular angel.3

Aziraphale had planted himself between Crawley and the lioness, feet wide in a fighting stance, gripping his staff with both hands. He was completely still now, locked in a staring contest with the lioness. 

Crawley was grateful to feel the baobab’s trunk against his back. It occurred to him that he had never seen Aziraphale actually _fight_ before. Oh, sure, he’d seen the angel sparring with humans now and then, usually when “training” them, but he was always so _obviously_ holding back. He might’ve been holding back against the lioness, too, although her jaw was definitely broken. 

Aziraphale feinted at the lioness with his staff, and she lunged to get out of the way. She glared at both man-shaped beings and let out one last snarl to make her point perfectly clear, and then she turned and hurried off into the grass as best she could. 

Aziraphale did not relax his stance at all until the lioness sat down, a good distance away from them now, and called to her cubs. He snapped his fingers, miraculously healing her jaw and probably anything else he had injured, and waited another moment to make sure she wasn’t coming back now that her health was restored. Then and only then did he lower his staff and turn to give Crawley a rather disapproving look and a sigh. “ _Really_ , Crawley.”

“What?” Crawley said defensively, holding his hands up.

“Were you _trying_ to get discorporated?”

“Wha, yuh— _no_! Obviously not!”

“Oh, _obviously_.” 

“I was just— _playing_ with little— _unsupervised_ little—fluffballs! How was _I_ meant to know _that_ would happen?”

Aziraphale scoffed. “Honestly, Crawley. You act as if you _haven’t_ been here for almost two thousand years,” he chided. “One would _think_ that would be long enough to figure out that wild beasts are _not playthings_ , no matter how _fluffy_ they are. In fact, the _fluffy_ ones all tend to have _very_ protective mothers, as you _ought_ to know by now.”

Crawley groaned. “I thought that was just _bears_. Since when did _lions_ get in on that?”

Aziraphale’s face became deceptively mild. “Oh, well, I would need to look at the records, but if I were to hazard a guess, I would have to say: _since always_.”

Crawley rolled his eyes (and his whole head, while he was at it) and let out a long, dramatic sigh. “Right. Yeah, sure, alright.” He tried to run his hand through his hair, but it was still a half-plaited half-tangled mess. With a snap of his fingers, his long red locks were flowing free and mostly untangled again. He scratched his head and gave Aziraphale a confused look. “Why are you even _here_? I thought you were in Ein Gedi.” 

Aziraphale pouted. “I _was_ ,” he said. “New orders. Now I’m on my way to…” he gestured vaguely with his hand. “West Africa, somewhere, for clean-up duty. They sent someone _new_ down again, and apparently she managed to get herself discorporated on her first day.” He raised an eyebrow at Crawley. “I don’t suppose _you_ know anything about that?”

Once again, Crawley defensively held his hands up. “I _swear_ I had nothing to do with it. I was on the other side of the village. _Barely_ even knew there was an angel there, honest!”

“Mm. Well, she _wasn’t_ there _long_ ,” Aziraphale said. On the bright side, he seemed to believe that Crawley had nothing to do with it. That was always a plus.

“I’m on my way to Punt, myself,” Crawley offered. “But look, ah—since you _are_ here, since _we_ are both here, what do you say we maybe—stop somewhere, have a drink?”

Aziraphale drew himself up, trying to be indignant, or at least look like he was. “I am not having a _drink_ with you, Crawley,” he said. “It would be _completely_ inappropriate.” He always had to protest it first.

“Aw, c’mon. Let me buy you a drink,” Crawley said, waving towards where the lioness was now feeding her cubs. “You just—whacked a lion for me. It’s the least I can do.”

Aziraphale hesitated, pressing his lips together. It was a very similar argument to the one Crawley had used the _first_ time he’d convinced the angel to drink with him, four centuries ago.

“And, I’ll bet—” Crawley stepped closer, holding a finger up to emphasize his point. “I will _bet_ , that you just _happen_ to know the nearest place we could _get_ a drink that is _actually_ palatable.” 

There was a subtle hitch to Aziraphale’s breathing, and a very slight tilt of his head. “...Well as a matter of fact…”

“So…?” He raised his eyebrows and watched Aziraphale expectantly.

Aziraphale looked him over, head to toe and back, and then sighed. “Oh, alright.” He conveniently vanished his staff from this plane of existence. “ _One_ drink.” He had _never_ agreed to more than one.

Crawley grinned in victory. “Of course! Of course. _One_ drink,” he agreed. “Lead the way, angel.”

They walked side by side, Aziraphale on the right, and Crawley on the left. Aziraphale glanced at him, and then turned away as he very faintly whispered, “Or maybe two.” And if Crawley’s grin doubled in size, well, he made sure there was no sign of it by the time Aziraphale looked at him again.

Crawley really wasn’t at all incompetent, but he _was_ subject to occasional lapses in judgement. And while he wasn’t about to actually _count on_ Aziraphale to show up and save him every time he had one of those lapses, well… it wasn’t so bad, sometimes, if he had something of a guardian angel. Especially a guardian angel who accepted gratitude in the form of conversation and wine.

[1] So really, it was _just like_ playing with human children. Not that Crawley would know. Obviously.

[2] Not that meters had been invented yet, as a form of measurement. Neither had feet. It might be more historically accurate to say “four cubits,” or “about as far as Crawley is tall,” or “the length of three average-sized ducks.”

[3] Or at least, that’s what he kept telling himself. Especially when he caught himself daydreaming about cuddling or holding hands. Which happened a lot. Shh, don’t tell.

**Author's Note:**

> Once upon a time I scrutinized the Book of Genesis and did a lot of math and concluded that if, as in the show, the flood happened in 3004 BC, then the whole Sodom-and-Gomorrah-thing was in 2612 BC. (Which means in my headcannon, Crowley and Aziraphale would've had their first drink together in 2609 BC.) In this story, they've been on Earth roughly 1,800 years, which would put this around 2200 BC. I did not feel like doing the extensive bible-scouring-and-math to figure out what biblical current events would have been going on, but if anybody else wants to do that, I'd be curious.
> 
> The baobab tree is that iconic tree that means "Look, we're in Africa!" The branches are all at the top, and lions aren't the greatest climbers to begin with, so Crawley definitely would have been safe from the lion at the top of the tree, but aren't we all kind of glad he didn't think of that?
> 
> If you were expecting the whole pride to show up: these cubs are too young to be with the rest of the pride yet. Lion moms go off on their own to give birth and then hide their cubs, even from their own pride, until they're big enough to stand a little roughhousing with their older siblings and cousins. You may notice that Crawley lets the cubs climb all over him and swat him all they want, but he doesn't swat or touch or manhandle them AT ALL. See, he's not COMPLETELY incompetent... not that he's being SOFT or anything, of course. Obviously not soft. Very tough, mean demon here. Yup. Very evil. 
> 
> The Land of Punt is known pretty much exclusively from the trade records with Egypt. Apparently it had all sorts of good stuff to trade, but nobody is actually sure where it was. Some historians think it was in the Horn of Africa, which is roughly what I was going with here. I have no idea if they had any alcoholic beverages, nor do I know where Aziraphale would've led them for the nearest-something-palatable.
> 
> Ein Gedi is an oasis by the Dead Sea, and has been continuously inhabited since 3500-ish BC. It's in modern-day Israel. I have no idea what Aziraphale was doing there, but apparently it was really good ancient farmland, so probably the food was good?
> 
> My best Googling could not reveal any specific civilizations in West Africa in 2200-ish BC, but that doesn't mean there weren't any. 
> 
> Ducks vary in size depending on the species, but as far as I can tell, an average duck would be around two feet long. Y'know, ish. I'm pretty sure they have never actually been used as a unit of measurement.


End file.
